


Testing Boundaries

by Razer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Is Not Married, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pietro Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razer/pseuds/Razer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Pietro can’t seem to stop stealing Clint’s clothes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testing Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language - I'm sorry for any mistakes!

**_One_**

It started out simple, like so many other things do, too. Pietro didn’t mean to make a habit of it… it just sort of… happened.  
It was like a drug. As soon as he started it, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

It had been one of those winter days, where Pietro woke up unnecessarily early due to an impossible cold temperature. His feet felt unnaturally cold, which he never knew was possible. Still, sometimes he wondered how they haven’t frozen off yet.  
But honestly, he was probably just looking for an excuse to steal some of Clint’s stuff. The Sokovian had seen the archer walk around in those unfairly warm and fluffy looking socks for days now. And the idea was tempting – to just sneak inside the older man’s room and… take a pair of them. 

So one morning he found himself running down the hallway, feeling like Ethan Hunt as he sneaked towards Clint's room, looking around himself consciously while humming the Mission: Impossible Theme under his breath.  
He knew that the archer usually was at the gym at this time of the day, but you could never be careful enough.  
Pietro slipped inside the room, checking the space before walking straight towards the closet.  
He probably could have done this in no time, using his speed, but there was something thrilling about doing it Spy-movie-like.  
Going through the different drawers, he soon found the desired item. As soon as he held the pair of purple socks in his hands, he pulled them on his feet without second thought. 

After closing the drawer, Pietro turned around to leave the room. The young man carefully closed the door behind him, turning in the direction of the common room. 

Wanda was sitting at the table, drinking her coffee, as he entered the room. His sister just looked at him suspiciously, when she noticed the piece of clothing. She would raise her eyebrows at him and Pietro would say, it was just for the socks – no ulterior motive – but his sister knew him better than that. It wasn’t a coincidence that it was Clint, Pietro was stealing from (I’m just borrowing them, Wanda. There’s a difference!)  
“Are you planning on doing something about this?” she finally asked her brother, nodding towards the socks.  
“About what?” Pietro asked absentmindedly, as he pulled out some cereal from a drawer.  
Wanda rolled her eyes: “ _This_ , Pietro. Clint. Don’t pretend like you don’t stare at him like he hung the stars and the moon or something – I have eyes, you know?”  
The speedster bit his lip thoughtfully, but nodded – he wasn’t about to argue with his sister: “I’m… working on it.”

Later that day, when Pietro was sprawled out across the couch – taking up the entire space – watching a movie, he didn’t even think about Clint’s socks anymore.  
That was, until said archer decided to join him on the couch, pushing his feet out of the way to make some space, before pausing for a moment.  
The older man blinked, asking with a frown: “Aren’t those… my socks?”  
“Hmm?” Pietro turned his attention to Clint, who had his gaze fixated on his feet – or his socks, for that matter.  
The Sokovian couldn’t help but grin at that: “Oh… these. No… of course not. Why would I do that?”  
Not even waiting for an answer he turned back to the TV, ignoring the unconvinced look Clint shot him. 

This was going to be fun. 

**_Two_**

It was the first thing Clint noticed, as soon as Pietro entered the room. Not only was that particular shirt, which the young man was wearing, too big on him – it was also one of the archer’s favorite shirts, already a bit worn out, the colors washed out and the fabric stretched by his broad shoulders. Still, Pietro wore it like he _owned_ it, acting like he didn’t notice the way the older man was looking at him. But it was, nonetheless, clearly _Clint’s shirt_. 

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?” he frowned at Pietro, who was about to take out a bowl and some cereal, like every morning.  
The speedster looked up, giving Clint his typical cocky grin: “I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man.”

“Is this some kind of prank? Am I missing something?” Clint asked, frowning at the runner, who filled his bowl with the cereal, adding some milk to it.  
But Pietro simply shrugged, smirking ever so slightly as he took his bowl and a spoon and said, before turning away: “I don’t know… are you?”

**_Three_**

At first Pietro really just wanted to annoy the archer. Now he wanted the attention. He wanted those reactions, wanted to see his blue eyes widen or him being completely lost for words.  
It also didn’t hurt that Clint was quite attractive and Pietro would be lying if he said that the archer hadn’t caught his eye before.  
And so he found himself being cuddled up on the couch in a comfy hoodie, which was at least two sizes too big and always slipped a bit of his left shoulder.  
In his defense, it was a bit chilly and Clint simply left the purple hoodie lying on his bed, as if he was practically begging Pietro to take it.  
He knew that there was no way anyone would buy it, if he said that it was his. Wanda would just shake her head, Steve would be confused and Natasha would smirk, as if she knew something that the speedster didn’t know yet. 

Clint wasn’t stupid – he knew that the kid was doing this on purpose. First his socks, then his shirt.  
Whatever it was, the Sokovian was planning something, but the archer couldn’t wrap his head around what that could possibly be. To annoy him? To get his attention?  
But the archer couldn’t even be mad at him – if he was being completely honest he kind of liked the sight of Pietro in his clothes. He didn’t know what it was, but something about Pietro in his shirt just… did something to him. And Clint wasn’t blind either, he was perfectly aware of the fact that the young man was easy on the eyes – despite his bad haircut and his cocky grin.  
He wasn’t planning on acting on whatever it was that he was feeling, though – he was aware that he was quite some years older than the runner. 

But when he saw the young Avenger in _his_ hoodie, being all cute and unusually calm on the couch, he just stared. Clint opened his mouth, as if he was about to say something, leave some snarky comment or even complain about the fact that Pietro seemed to have forgotten where his own closet was, since he apparently only wore Clint’s stuff nowadays. But not a single word left his throat, leaving him gaping at the young man, before he simply turned around and left the room. 

Wanda, who was sitting nearby and had watched the whole scenario, shook her head and sighed: “You could just tell him, you know?”  
Her brother just smiled: “Still working on it.”

**_Four_**

Pants were a whole new deal.  
Pietro couldn’t just wear any pants of Clint’s because in that case it actually mattered if they were a bit bigger than his actual clothing size – he didn’t want to risk losing them while walking and be left standing there stupidly in just his underwear.  
The runner didn’t know how much time he spend going through Clint’s closet, while said man was at the gym, looking for a pair of sweatpants, which were a bit tight on the archer, but would probably fit Pietro just fine. In the worst case, he could just pull the pants tighter by the strings that all of Clint’s sweatpants seemed to have.  
He let out a yelp of success as he finally pulled a pair out and pulled it on, noticing satisfied that they were actually pretty comfortable, once he’d adjusted the strings so that they didn’t dare slipping down his legs.

He pushed the closet close and left the room, deciding that it was time for him to hit the gym as well – might as well show of his pants. 

Clint was about to hit the shower, when Pietro entered the locker room. As the archer caught sight of him, he literally chocked on his water, which he had been in the middle of drinking, and coughed loudly. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard, old man. We don’t want you to break, do we?” the Sokovian smirked cheekily at him, making it hard for Clint to decide whether he wanted to just punch him and wipe that stupid grin of his face, or throw him against the nearest wall and have his wicked way with him.  
He felt like he should have expected something like this by now.  
“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, staring at Pietro, who just got rid of his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up, making the archer gulp soundly.  
“See something you like?” the young man asked cheekily, purposely waiting longer than he had to, before he even started looking for his training shirt.  
“I… You…” the archer tried, flustered, before deciding: “You know what, I’m just… I’m just gonna… go.”

This kid was driving him absolutely nuts. 

It was later that day and Clint had successfully avoided the speedster after the locker room incident. He was relaxing on the couch, a book in his hand which he had been meaning to read for quite some time now.  
Steve sat down beside him, zapping through the different channels, searching for something remotely watchable, before giving up and tossing the remote aside – deciding to observe his surroundings instead.  
The archer found himself engrossed in the book, only noting on the side that Natasha and the Maximoff twins entered the room. Determined not to let the runner distract him again, Clint kept his gaze focused on the book. 

“Hey Clint,” Steve interrupted him, cocking his head sideways, as he watched Pietro talk animatedly with his sister, “Aren’t those… your pants?”  
The archer didn’t even bother to look up from his book as he answered: “Yep.”  
The Cap frowned: “But… why does he-“ – “Don’t ask.”  
“But-“  
Clint sighed: “Just… don’t, okay?”  
With that Clint stood up from his spot on the couch, leaving Steve sitting there dumbfounded and utterly confused. 

**_Five_**

Clint expected most things. He prided himself at being fairly good at expecting the unexpected, but with Pietro it was a whole new deal. The runner always caught him by surprise, making him seriously question his sanity. But he thought he finally got over that, as well. He thought that nothing could surprise him anymore, whatever trick that brat would pull at him.  
But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting from him when he entered the locker room, intending to finally hit the shower. 

Because there was Pietro, looking smug as ever – even pretending that he didn’t notice Clint enter – in nothing but his boxer shorts. 

In nothing but _Clint’s boxer shorts_ , to be exact. 

The archer gulped, eyes widened at the sight before him. And then, that little shit just smirked: “Didn’t see that coming, old man?”  
And Clint just… snapped.  
Within the next moment, Pietro was roughly pressed up against the next wall, Clint’s face merely inches away from his own. “Just… shut up,” he growled, before finally crashing their lips together. 

Pietro sure as hell didn’t say much for some time after that. 

**_Zero - Aftermath_**

Clint could get used to this. 

Pietro was pressed against his side, blanket only barely covering some parts of his body. His head was resting on his chest, arms wrapped around the archer’s waist and his silver-blonde hair was a complete mess.  
Clint smiled, carefully moving his hand to tuck a single strand of Pietro’s hair out of his face.  
The runner looked so content and calm and the older man watched as his chest raised with his steady breathing.  
“Stop staring at me while I’m sleeping. It’s creepy,” the young man muttered sleepily, slowly stirring awake. Clint chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.  
Pietro removed his arms from the archer to stretch and yawned, slowly sitting up on the bed – instantly missing the warmth of another body pressed up against him.  
“We should get up,” Clint murmured, as he took a look at the time, “I’m pretty sure everyone’s already up.”  
Pietro grinned, pecking his lips softly before answering: “’m calling dibs on your sweatshirt!”

Yeah… Clint could definitely get used to this.


End file.
